


Broken promises.

by everyhowlmarksthedead



Category: Mayans M.C. (TV)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-30
Updated: 2020-05-30
Packaged: 2021-03-02 22:14:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,597
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24460381
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/everyhowlmarksthedead/pseuds/everyhowlmarksthedead
Relationships: Angel Reyes/Reader
Kudos: 5





	Broken promises.

Your day at hospital is almost done. You check your phone again, but there's no messages of Angel. He was in another ‘mission’ with the MC and it's supossed he would came back by evening. It's eight pm and you don't know nothing about him. You type the number 'cause you remember it by heart. “The user your tryi...” Hang up. His phone is switched off or out of range since yesterday. You're worried, you can't avoid it. It's the first time in one year something like this is happening. You bite your lip nervously putting the phone inside the pocket of the white nurse gown, deciding to try again when you are at home, if he isn't there either. You don't wanna keep the idea in your mind that something wrong happened. Maybe he still on the road with no battery.

You call him again, once your in your car before go home, but the same woman repeat the message of the voicemail. You sigh putting down your forehead on the steering wheel, eyes closed, praying for him like never before. You're not even a believer, but Angel is the person you love the most and you can't imagine a life without him. Maybe you're overreacting. He could has come back home and just has fallen asleep, after a long ride from New Mexico. 

You start the engine with a roar that resonates in the parking, driving to your way back to Santo Padre. Twenty minutes in completely silence, believing that if you turn on the radio, maybe you're not gonna hear the ringtone of your phone, if someone calls you. Once the car is parked in front of your house, you run out of it, forgetting in the back sit all your stuff. In your hands you only carry the keys and the phone. No lights inside. Doesn't seems a good omen. 

“Angel?” You ask inside raising your voice on your way to the room you share. Empty bed and perfectly made, as you left it in the morning. Another furtive sigh in your throat. You call him again. Nothing. You decide to wait for him one hour more. Then, you'll drive to the clubhouse hoping he'll be there. 

Taking a seat on the sofa, your legs shakes nervously, bitting one of your nails but without breaking it. Time goes by. Tv is on trying to entertain your head, to keep out bad ideas that wanna dance in your mind. You check the screen to make sure how many minutes are left. Fifteen to your goal, but you can't wait. You wear an Angel's big hoodie and have the phone and keys inside the kangaroo-pocket, back to the car. The clubhouse is near, but you know you're not gonna have any luck when you arrive to and see there are no bikes around. Chucky greets you by the window, taking your head off of it. “Hey, do you know if the boys are in town?”

“Yes! They're at Vicky's place.”, he shouts innocently with a big smile on his face, “happy birthday by the way!”

You up an eyebrow. You've forgotten it's your birthday. “Thanks, Chucky! See you tomorrow at party!”

You say before turning the wheels. Your blood is boiling with anger, frowing and fighting to not cry. How many time has he been there? Why he didn't call you? Has he also forgotten what day is it? You've never celebrated it, but Angel said it would be amazing have a private party for you and another with the club. He has always been attentive to you, but since the rebels started to fucked up everything, he changed. And you tried hard to make things work like the beginning. He also sleep some nights at Ez's roulotte to not bother you with his MC's shits, like he called it. But he's wrong, 'cause you wanna help him at all cost, no matter what or when.

You drive faster than it's allowed through the desert, but you don't mind if the cops stop you. Everybody knows who you are in California and Mexically. Mayans Secretary's Old Lady. At least until now. You can see the house away, all the lights on and all the motorbikes parked in front of the door. You dry brake the wheels, having a breathe inside the car and counting till ten to no say anything that could make things between you two worst. You can see a girl looking through the curtains, turning in his feet after look at you saying something you can't understand. Maybe she's announcing you. The door is opened by Vicky with a gesture of understanding towards your anger. She lets you in. You walk fast to the living room, where silence has been installed. Angel is sitting in the sofa, head down, hands on his nape. He knows he fucked up. You lick your inner lip with the attentive eyes of the bikers on you.

“You have nothing to say?”, you ask with a rough voice, crossing your arms on your chest. He shakes his head in silence, looking up to you. Your orbs meet. Yours in fire, his about to break into tears. Both knows that your one year' relationship was hanging by a thread. 

“Do you want us to leave...?” Coco is the one who dares to interrupt the uncomfortable situation.

“No, I'll be brief”, you take off the hoodie, throwing it to Angel. “We're done”.

“No, no, no! Mi amor, please!”, he shouts at you, getting up, but you're faster than him leaving the house. You can hear him who continues yelling at you in tears, begging to listen, being followed by EZ, Riz and Creeper. His brother holds him by his shoulders, while he fights to free himself, but Tranq cuts his steps at the moment you move on your car. You're in tears too and it's difficult to drive crying, but you wanna leave that place as soon as possible. The phone starts to ringing. The name of your, now, ex-boyfriend blinks on the screen. You take it to hang up the call and turn off the phone. You're not gonna listen any shit or any apologies he has to tell you. The opportunities are over.

You drive for hours to nowhere. You don't wanna go home 'cause its obvious Angel will be there. You're tired after being working for double turn in the hospital, so the decision of sleep in the first motel you can find is taken. Some miles away and a few minutes later, you can see a sign of a rest area. Finally. You register yourself paying with cash and no name, or you know he's gonna find you easily. You fall asleep in tears but faster than you thought, when the sun has already risen, hugging the pillow in a room of dubious cleanliness. 

Wake up disoriented, with an horrible headhache and dry tears on your cheeks. It takes you some seconds looking around you, laying on the bed, to discover where you are. You get up sitting at the border with a hand on your forehead and a growl in your mouth. Walk barefoot towards the bathroom, to a have a look of yourself in the mirror. Your eyes are swolled and red, your hair is a mess and there are some cuts in your lips, because of the nervous bitting a few hours ago. Don't even know what time is it, doubting about the fact that if you should turn on your phone. 

You come back to the bed, having a seat on the floor with your back against the mattress. You take it and press the button in the left, till you feel the vibration. After type the pin, the phone goes crazy like if was possessed. A lot of notifications make it ring. Thousands of calls, thousands of messages from Angel, Ez, Gilly, Felipe... Even Bishop called you for eleven times. You watch the clock on top of the screen. Four pm. Angel's name blinks again. It's possible he has received an alert that your phone is operative. You leave it on the floor, next to your feet. You're not ready to talk to him yet. The screen turns off, but it doesn't take more than a minute when it lights up again. Bishop is calling you, again. You left a sigh closing your eyes. He's the wisest man you know, you can't simply ignore him. So you answer.

“Are you hurt?”, you know he means if you had a crash with the car or something like.

“No”, you shake your head, even when he isn't watching you.

“Are you ok?”

“No”, you repeat automatically, cleaning a furtive tear that falls by your cheek.

“Why don't you send me your location, sweetheart?”, his voice is sweet and soft. You can't say he's like a father to you since you arrived to Santo Padre, but he is. “I'm goin' alone”.

“Tel'er I love her, shit! Tel'er 'am sorry, prez, please!”, you hear Angel's voice in tears on the other side.

“Shut the fuck up, you fucking shithead”, Bishop yells at him. Silence again. “Send it to me, pequeña”.

“Ok...”, you lick your lips nodding, before hanging up.

Immediately after, you do what he asked for, dragging your temple in a nervous reflex act. You know that talk with him is gonna make you feel better, even if your relationship will not be back. A snort floods the room, illuminated by the soft light of the sun outside. The town is at five hours of your location, and you don't know how the hell did you end up there. But you're hungry and you're not gonna wait for the MC's president. Then you remember that near of the check-in counter is one of those vending machines. You look for some dollars in your pocket, holding the room key with the free hand, walking to it. You choose some chips' bag, three chocolate bars, a coke and a big bottle of water. Isn't the best lunch, but better than nothing.

Time passes without you noticing when your stomach is full, lying in bed with the tv on. You turn the head to the window at the moment you heard the roar of a motorbike approaching. Throw the papers and the empty bags into the trash can, before fixing your hair a little. You open the door focusing your attention in the oldest man, taking off his helmet and leaving away the green motorbike. He hugs you hard between the arms covered in leather with a heavy sigh.

“We were worried”.

“I'm sorry, Bishop. I'm sorry about all. About the show I made yesterday, about my attitude...”

“You don't have, sweetheart. Lets come in, ok?”

You nod starting to walk into the room. He closes the door and leaves his jacket on a chair, taking a sit in the other. You prefer the bed. Your head is down with the eyes on your feet.

“Was it because he was at Vicky's?”, you shake your chin. “Because of your birthday?”, you shake again. “Because of the club?”

Silence. You need to think and choose the correct words. With your eyes on the ceiling, you leave a sigh. Then, you shake your head again.

“Not quite. I mean... He's very distant since the... rebels work alone. He used to sleep at Ez's roulotte, saying that was the best to my mental health. Like... the fuck does it mean?”

“There are somewhat difficult tim...”

“I thought he died”, you interrupt him. Bishop looks at you confused. “I never asked him to put myself before the club. I only asked to keep his phone on. I was calling him for hours. He told me he would be back at the evening. I don't care if he has forgotten my birthday nor if he was hanging out with you. Call me. Tell me you're ok.”

You sound desperate, but you don't have to convince him. He thinks the same. He can't deny you the reason. Bishop nods giving a clap on air.

“Let me take you to Santo Padre”.

“I don't wanna go home. I'm not ready to see Angel”.

“Then, stay in my house till you are, de acuerdo?”

The proposition is surprisedly kind, 'cause you didn't expect something like that could happen. But you nod in silence. After all, you don't have any place to go apart of your house. A wild yawn leaves your mouth, covering it with your right hand before nod again.

━━━━━━ ﹅ ━━━━━━ 

Three days without calls or any messages, and your life focused on the work in the hospital. You miss Angel every second of your day and you know it's something reciprocal, 'cause Bishop told you he asked him about how you are a hundred times every hour. If the oldest Reyes sees the president with his phone in the hands, he runs to ask him to tell you how much he loves your existence. Yes, he's trying. Another man would sent you to hell. You also can see the gesture draws his face when you ask about him. Bishop is tired of the situation, it's compressible. So, when you tell the oldest you're gonna write Angel to meet the next day, his face illuminates full of happiness. For you, and for himself.

“Do you want me to go with you, to intermediate?”

“I don't wanna, and neither you do”, you talk back with a funny smile, having your phone between the tiny fingers. 

💬 (Y/N): r you free tomorrow?

Typing...

Typing...

Typing...

Five minutes later, you keep standing in the middle of the room, waiting for a word. Maybe he got a heartattack, who knows.

💬 Angel: yea

💬 (Y/N): ok

💬 (Y/N): it's ok CloClo at nine ?

💬 Angel: morning ?

💬 (Y/N): it's too early for you or ???

Yes, it is. But things gonna change if he wanna come back.

💬 Angel: it's perfect

💬 Angel: how r ya? Bishop treat you rait' ?

💬 (Y/N): see you tomorrow

💬 Angel: ok i love you mi dulce

💬 Angel: mucho

You read the last two messages four times before locking the screen with a sigh, shaking your head. You're not even sure if he's gonna be the same of the last months or if he's really sorry for neglecting and worrying. Of course he'll apologize since he sees you open the cafeteria principal door. But words are words. You need acts to fix it.

Night passed slowly, you couldn't sleep more than a few hours, looking at the ceiling all the time thinking a monologue about what you wanna say him, that probably will be forgotten when he'll be in front of you. 

At eight o'clock, you jump off of the bed. You're nervous, it's something more than obviously. You have black eye bags symbolizing that you're not resting as well as you need. But make up will do his work. Wearing something comfy, a jeans and a basic t-shirt with sport shows, you put all your necessary stuff inside your bag, carrying it on your left shoulder. The cafeteria is near, maybe ten minutes, so you decide to walk with your small bluetooth headphones on. Music always helped. Your legs move faster when you can see the place a few meters away, in the opposite sidewalk. His motorbike is there. And he is sitting at the next table, playing with a cigar packet in his hands nervously, looking around till your eyes meet. You cross the road after look at both sides to be sure that no car is being drived by. He gets up of his chair confused, because he don't know if is allowed to hug you. You don't say a word, taking a seat and leaving your bag next to your feet.

“Hi”, he says. Looks like shit, exactly like you. At least he's not wearing the vest, but a black and read check t-shirt. “Do ya' wanna coffee?”

You nod before he calls the waitress to ask for it. Then he looks at you, supporting his tattoed arms on the table. “Listen, (Y/N), I know that... I screwed up. I made promises I didn't keep, 'am sorry”.

You light a cigar in your lips, having a long puff. First, you want to know what he needs to say.

“I'll answer you any question you have, 'am gonna tell you everything, whenever”, you want to believe he's being honest. You truly want. “No more nights out of home, if 'am not on road. Look, I also bought two chargers”.

He puts on the table a plastic bag showing you the batteries for his phone. You want to smile, but you don't. It's a step, at least.

“This is not about you forgott my birthday, I told you I never celebrated before. Or about the club. I thought something bad happened to you, I couldn't find you, Angel. And yes, I could called the guys, but it supposed I don't have to”, you finally tell him. He nods his head with a heavy sigh, he's truly sorry.

“Come back home, please, (Y/N). I can... If ya' want I can stay with EZ. But don't leave me, please”.

“You're always with that shit about not being the preference of anyone. But I did. I put you first, even if you didn't asked me”.

“I know, I know, mi dulce”, he tries to hold your hands, but you're faster leaving them on your lap. You're eyes are now in the middle of nowhere, laying against your chair. “Tell me what ya' want me to do, I'll do anything. If ya' want me to leave the club, I will do it for ya'. Shit, baby! Ya're the most important person to me”.

“It's not about you have to do what I want. It's about to do what YOU want. I don't have to ask for your attention, nor your company, Angel”. You keep silence while the waitress serves the hot coffees.

“Then, let me do it. Come back home, I'll be with EZ till ya're ready to trust me 'gain”.

━━━━━━ ﹅ ━━━━━━ 

“Yo! What kind of flowers is she into, uh?”, he asks the crew walking through the door of the clubhouse. The guys look at him, with the phone on his hands. “Aren't roses so typical?”

“I think she's more into food”, Coco answers shrugging sitting with his legs on the small table. “Cook something for her, bring it to the hospital”.

“I don't know how the fuck I should fry an egg”, Angel opens his arms like it wasn't obvious.

“Then, buy it in her fav' restaurant”. Tranq talk this time.

Everybody in the room look at EZ. He's confused. “Why it supposed I shou...? In the corner of the principal avenue. There is a place where you can buy him a tuna and shrimp calzone. She also like garlic bread”.

“Man! I wanna kiss'er! I'm not the fockin' Dracula, but...”

“No, you're not gonna kiss her. You're gonna show her your love, driving fourty minutes to be with her”, Taza shakes his head having a sip of his beer. The voice of wisdom.

“Club decision. Should Angel have two hours every day to go at the hospital and have lunch with (Y/N)?, Bishop shouts walking out of the Templo, scaring the shit out of the members, because of the unexpected words. All hands up. “The girl has been stuck with you for a year, she won the fuckin' right, god. Should have to do big balls to do it, man”.

━━━━━━ ﹅ ━━━━━━ 

💬 Angel: I'm outside.

You're sitting at the table, with a reluctant nibbled sandwich when the notification lights the screen. You read it one time, two times, three times. What is he doing here? You leave the food there to walk through the hallways to go down the stairs, going to the streetdoor. Angel is supported against the motorbike with crossed arms and a soft smile on his lips. You look at him confused, while he takes a plastic bag from his backpack.

“Ya' hungry, mi dulce?”, he asks proud of what he doing, walking to you. Gives you a kiss on the temple, putting an arm on your shoulders. Takes his time with the gesture, pressing his lips against your skin for a few long seconds.

“I was eating a sandwich, but... this smell delicious”.

“I came to bring ya' your faves. If you want me to leav...”

“I want you to stay”.

“Shit, awesome! It's fuckin' hot on the road, I thought I was goin' to melt”, it's been a long time since you heard him laugh and it's feel really good. He's doing his best for the nonce. “I bought that garlic bread with cheese ya' like, to prove 'am not gonna try to kiss ya'. I mean, I could. But I fuckin' hate garlic and I wanna do the right thing, mi dulce. I don't wanna fuck up again our relationship”.

“Are we in one?”, you ask, only to see her reaction.

“C'mon! Give me a chance!”, he shouts desperate with a sigh in his throat, shaking the head for a moment.

“I was kidding, Angel. We're just... takin' slowly”.

“As slow as my girl wants. I'll always be yours, even if ya' like that shitty garlic thing”, you two start to walk to the nearest bench. “Plus, 'am gonna learn to cook”.

“Please, don't. You shouldn't die in a fire”.

“Woman of little faith... Ya'll thank me”.

“Die in a fire?”

“DiE iN a FiReEeEe, did ya' have clown for breakfast?”


End file.
